Milk and Honey
by daiyaonna
Summary: Some things in life are just too hard to decide. almost onesided tohmaXeiri, eiriXshuichi


Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Please give credit where it's due.

Author's Note: I apologize if I'm a tad rusty. It's been a while since I've written anything Gravi. Enjoy it anyway.

_Dedicated to patosan!  
_**Happy (late) Birthday!**

* * *

_**Milk and Honey**_

He's staring at me again. Insufferable bastard. Every time I happen to glance up, he's there…watching. Always watching. Sometimes, I tire of his tenacious scrutiny, and sometimes…

I find it just the tiniest bit cute.

But not right now.

Right now is _supposed_ to be about love and giving and all of that other ridiculous bullshit no one really cares much for these days. It's a time _I_ could care less about. Hell, it could have never existed, but my lover is as rambunctious as ever and **insists** on it.

_"Please?"_

"Yuki, please?"

"Yuki, Yuki, Yuki, Yuki!"

I'm thankful he's finally shut his mouth. My lover doesn't know when to be quiet, even in times of necessity.

My lover…

He's giggling like a girl, eyes as brilliant as sapphires, hair as sugary as spun candy, and I want to reach out and strangle him. For a moment, I think it would be nice to just wrap my hands around his throat and silence him forever, but…

I place a cigarette in my mouth instead and suck on it like a fish. Smoke swirls upward, dull beneath the festive decorations clinging spasmodically to the walls, and I look around again. Mustn't think about him or I'm bound to do something…bad.

Silently, I laugh at that.

Bad? What is bad, anyway?

I've done some pretty _bad_ things in my life, and no one really gave a damn except…

Son of a bitch! He's _still_ staring at me. Why did I have to look in _his_ direction, anyway? He probably knows I'm bored.

Bored? Banging my head against a wall -any wall- would have been more entertaining than this.

Colorful paper is everywhere, and when I say everywhere, I mean _everywhere_. It's on the tables, on the floor, in my hair…

Dammit!

I casually brush it away, pieces of it landing atop my lover's already glittering head. He notices my movement and turns toward me, smiling that liquefying, almost retarded smile of his. I want to tell him to "go away," but that would have been _too_ obvious. He'd probably cry if I did, anyway.

What a baby.

"Are you tired?" What he says surprises me, but then again, almost anything he says does. I'm actually shocked that he can speak properly…most of the time.

I give him my usual shrug-off, and he latches to my arm like a leech. No amount of shaking would have removed him, so I leave him alone.

"YYYYUUUKKKKIIIIIIII!"

Not that. Anything but "The Wail."

Now, _everyone_ is looking at us: the idiot and his "talking" bunny, the crazy American manager, the over-protective best friend, my sister, my brother…_him_.

God fucking dammit!

"Shut up."

Wow. What a comeback. I must congratulate myself once again for showing just how "intelligent" I am, especially with so many watching. And, for the record, I _am_ a genius.

He's on the verge of crying now, my over-dramatic paramour with his now watery, diamond-like eyes and messy, magenta hair, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed.

It's true. I've grown soft. And yet, I _still_ want to hold him close. Later, I know this sentimental crap is going to kill me, but for now, I just allow myself the opportunity to indulge in tugging the brat to me and kissing him quiet.

His response is always immediate. I like that.

He opens his mouth wider, searching for my tongue, but I pull away, winking inconspicuously at him. I'd rather not provide any more of a performance than was already given. However, I slide my lips against his ear, inhaling his scent.

Ironically wonderful…strawberry.

"Later," I murmur, satisfied with the way he discreetly shivers and nods. Instantly, it's as though this has never happened. My lover rebounds into a conversation with the guitarist, the name having been forgotten for _personal_ reasons, and the room is **full** of noise, my lover's voice and that foolhardy "idol" of his loudest among them.

I sigh and continue to haul death into my lungs. It doesn't taste so bad, and besides, it helps me relax.

Pushing away the mountains of wrapping paper having accumulated on my lap, I stand and move towards the balcony. I can practically _hear_ it calling to me. Of course, I may just be hallucinating. My life **has** been one huge hallucination up until now.

Another sigh and the smoke continues to spill into the air. I've been doing that a lot these days, too. I can never seem to make up my mind, either. I think it's slowly driving me crazy. As in 'losing-my-fucking-mind' crazy. The very thought makes me smirk.

Crazy Uesugi Eiri.

No…

Yuki Eiri, dictator of the insane.

"That's me entirely," I reason aloud, but mostly just to hear myself speak. Thinking too much inside my head is bad.

Bad…

"Talking to yourself, now, Eiri-san?"

Immediately, my teeth grit. That voice is like poison, a liquid fire of mental breakdown I can't stand. The very image of the man behind the mask sickens me to the point that-

Shit!

I've turned around.

The smile on his lips is making my own curl upward of their own accord, and I'm…I'm falling victim to that unbearable charm…like before.

I know I'm trapped as he approaches, wineglass shimmering softly in his delicate hand.

I shake my head. Damn my ability to notice-

Fuck!

Stay away from me, you…you monster!

"Well?" His breath isn't visible in the frigid air, and I know then that he really is as cold as ice.

I try to shift the subject of conversation, but nothing instantly comes to mind.

_Come on, stupid ass. Use the wit you were given!_

"Uh…"

Well, articulate has never been my strong point. I just shrug slightly and attempt to look away.

It's impossibly hard to do, though, dammit!

The bastard's smirking again, grinning like the fool he really is, almost as if he's hoarding a secret only he knows, and instantly, I scowl. Perfect. Make him think I **hate** him and he'll go away.

Maybe.

He'd always been so hard to get rid of.

Mentally, I fly through every curse I know, listing them in a litany that almost sounds like a song. Kind of catchy, really.

He moves even closer, swaying slightly, turquoise eyes faded a dark, dark green beneath the cloudy moon, and instinctively, I take a step back. Then, my brain jump-starts itself.

What the hell?

I'm not afraid of _him_.

Quickly, I peek at him through lengthened bangs. Okay, well, I'm not afraid of him…sometimes.

And, it's ridiculous, too. I'm twenty-two years old, a fucking _grown_ man, and right now, I'm cowering before someone that's shorter than me, physically weaker than me.

I think…

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Why can't I make up my fucking mind!

"Eiri-san?"

Now, I know he…knows. He's always been too good at it. Once, I'd liked that about him. Once.

Not anymore.

I swallow and remove the half-burnt cigarette from my mouth, flicking it over the edge of the balcony with nonchalance. It disappears into the chilling darkness without a sound.

Silence until…

"Come now, Eiri-san. Won't you say something?"

"Something," I answer pertly, and for a moment, just a moment, I think he's going to hit me. Either that or break the glass in his hand. Yet, he does neither, and I briefly wonder why I'd believed he would have done something so juvenile.

He's never-

His laugh breaks my concentration.

"You're so charming, Eiri-san. Why the sarcasm?"

"Why not?" I bite back, wishing, then, that I hadn't thrown my cigarette away. It would have given me something to do…

And still I dare not look at him. Really _look_. He's a devil, the monster of my soul. Suddenly, the thought almost makes me smile.

Maybe he wants to eat me.

"What amuses you so, Eiri-san?"

I cringe internally at _that_ name. He thinks he has the right to use it. Little arrogant fuck.

I shrug, feigning indifference, but his gaze prods at me relentlessly, burning my blood with invisible fire. I've felt this before. I know what it is, and I hate him for these screwed up…emotions.

Dammit!

My tongue moves. Without permission.

"You," I mutter snidely, and his features twist. Twist into the danger that has always, _always_ been him. "All of this is fucking hilarious."

"Eiri…" His fingers touch mine, and I lose it. I didn't realize he was so close, and sanity flies out the goddamn window without hesitation. My resistence crumbles into sand, and I lean forward, hair falling over my forehead.

He's ethereal in this light, which is hardly none at all. I can't deny his beauty. I can't resist it, either.

Fuck. Why me?

"D-don't." My voice wavers, and he smiles. I should be mad. I should be pissed as hell, but…

But…

I feel his breath on my cheek, warm and incredibly intoxicating, and I'm instantly floating in a pool of contradicting thought.

Run. Stay. Run far, far away. Stay close. Stay close. Stay close.

Oh, God.

"Eiri." He repeats it, whispering as close to my ear as he can reach without touching me anymore than he already is.

Hot. So hot.

I'm dying.

I'mdyingI'mdyingI'mdying.

This isn't…isn't happening!

For a moment, I believe that. I believe it with every ounce of composure I have left. I'm not here. Not with-

His hand cups my face, and my heart skips. My thoughts are immediately eradicated, disentegrating into an invisible dust that's easily carried away by the wind.

Shit! I think I'm shaking.

"You're so cute," he murmurs, my eyes flicking to his lips. They're almost as pale as his skin, and I swallow.

"I-" At that moment, I figure out why I can't speak or make any _logical_ thoughts.

It hurts too much.

"You always were," he continues, sliding the tips of his fingers across the plane of my cheek to caress the slope of my nose. "What happened?"

Abruptly, out of nowhere, he slaps me. Hard. My face stings, and I stare at him in disbelief, confused. I don't have the slightest clue as to what he's talking about.

What. The. Fuck.

"Who-" Again, I can't talk.

_Who are you?_

"Look what you've made me do," he croons softly, rubbing the back of his hand across the spot that continues to burn. More so with his ever-gentle touch. I feel trapped, and I know escape is impossible when he stretches up, balancing himself on his toes. "Let me make it better."

I catch a glimpse of hunger in those shadowed, turquiose eyes and panic.

No. Help. Someone. I can't…

I can't resist this. Him.

His tongue brushes my bottom lip before his mouth clamps around it, pulling me into a kiss. A breathless, heart-stopping kiss. I choke and dissolve into it, wanting this and only this.

I do not belong to the pink haired brat prancing obliviously inside. I don't belong to anyone. Anyone but him.

I can only assume he thinks the same. No wife to hinder him, to stop him from…claiming me.

I don't want to figure out his motives, let alone understand them. I've tried and failed. Besides, I've trusted this man for too long to tell him 'no.' It's hopeless to attempt it.

He's wrapped around my finger, and in return, I'm held captively in his palm, a toy for amusement. An object of obsession.

Obsession…

My eyes slide open to stare at the top of his head. He's a blonde silhouette by the light of the cloud-covered moon, the icy air barely flushing the skin of his face. Before I realize it, my hands are clutching at his shoulders.

Damn.

I can't deny him. I'm attracted to the dangerous beauty that's Seguchi Tohma. Husband to my sister. My brother-in-law.

I don't even stop to think that someone could see us as he sucks harder on my bottom lip, darwing a soft groan he mistakes as encouragement.

No more. I have someone else to-

Shit. His hand is slipping into the front of my shirt, expertly opening buttons in search of skin. He finds it and strokes, purring quietly.

I want to hate him. I want to. Desperately. He's led me along, altered my hopes and dreams into a warped fantasy of dirty novels, of desiring what I could never have. Could never be.

_Yuki-sensei…_

It hurts to know the things I know, to play this ever-shifting game of give-and-take. It's my reprieve, I suppose.

So is this.

A reprieve and a punishment.

He nips once more at the flesh of my mouth before withdrawing completely. I blink at him, and he waggles a finger in chastisement.

"You've been very bad, Eiri-san," he says, winking precariously as he lifts the wineglass he has to his lips and sips it.

He's been holding it the whole time?

Fuck.

A chill washes over me, and I quickly turn my back to him, fixing what he's undone.

"Whatever," I throw over my shoulder, my hands trembling uncontrollably as I realize what he's just said.

Bad…

So, we're back to that? Again?

He chuckles.

"Come visit me soon, Eiri-san." I hear him calmy retreat, the tap of his shoes against the balcony concrete driving a spike repeatedly into my heart.

Leaving. He's…walking away, slipping through my fingers like…like buttermilk.

_Tohma…_

"Shindou-san." His breathy acknowledgement sends a chill up my spine, and I turn to stare at the now lone figure in the frosty darkness. My lover's eyes are wide in the shadows, his rounded face saddened with a deep frown. He approaches, the moon enhancing the sparkles on his cheeks, the slender line of his body.

I must be the biggest fuck-up in existence.

_Shuichi…_

How could I do this to you? How could you…love me for it?

"Yuki?" His voice is curious, full of compassion and warmth despite the brisk winter air surrounding us. He reaches out a hand and wraps it around my fingers, caressing them softly. "Are you okay?"

No.

"Yes." It's a whispered response, and he seems to know that I don't want to speak. Not now. Instead, he worms his way into my personal space and wraps himself around me, holding me close.

Always the strong one.

I never give him enough credit. Ever.

My lover murmurs against my chest and a sense of overwhelming completion suddenly swamps my brain. I can do nothing but return his affection, wanting it. Craving it. I sigh and pull him close, finally caving in.

So different. Both of them.

But…

I could never choose one over the other. Not in a thousand life times to come.

Tohma is my foundation. Cold, uncaring, and bland. He desires nothing else, though he honors the promise he has made to my sister.

And Shuichi…

Shuichi is my love. My strength. My support. He needs only what I give him despite the fact it has never been what he deserves.

Nothing I know would be the same without them. I cannot live without either.

My ambrosia.

My poison.

My milk and honey.

**End **


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